For Those We Are Yet to Lose
by AFiddlingSnail
Summary: Six years after the death of Salem, and nine years after the Fall of Beacon, most of the world has found peace. Most, but not Weiss Schnee and Jaune Arc: more than friends, but less than lovers. Partners in an agitated wander. But what if they could change everything? What if they could undo the tragedy of the past? Would they be able to, or would they only make things worse?
1. Right Place, Wrong Time

The world itself was heaving. Her vision was clouded with black that rose from nothing. Everything around her was swimming, dancing, and twirling in one massive and sickening display of dizziness. Every color was twenty-times more vibrant than it had any right to be, and each one burrowed through her eyes and into her brain like drills in a dust mine.

She crumpled, her rapier's tip pricking the ground behind her as the swirling earth rushed to meet her face. Their meeting was delayed however, delayed by the leather clad hands that somehow were stationary and solid on the mass of writhing green below her.

Her head was pounding like the drums that used to accompany her voice so long ago, each beat shattering her thoughts with a pain and sickness that resonated through her body. Her stomach had had enough.

Bile and acid ate away at her throat in an instant, her lunch rocketing up and out in a flurry of green much too dark to be the earth. Her arms shook, and the taste wouldn't leave her mouth. _Bile and field jerky._ The world kept spinning, more bile rose, and her body shook for the second time, but this time nothing but acid came up. She would gag if she wasn't vomiting.

Her arms were trembling, her eyes were screwed shut, and her face was twisted into a grimace that dripped bile.

Funnily enough, the grass - tinged as it was with vomit that slid between her fingers - was stationary. The earth it grew on not spinning even slightly.

 _Breathe. Deep breaths. Get your heart rate down, reign in your emotions._

Her eyes cracked open, and the world did not swirl.

She leaned back on her haunches, head pounding and hand slipping instinctively to the comforting steel of Myrtenaster. _Fifteen meters to woods, no signs of Grimm, no attackers. Lucky. Would be dead otherwise._

It was stupid of her, getting caught in the open like this, vomitting like her air sick ass of a partner - wait. _Where is he?_

Yet another scan proved that she was alone, every other patch of grass upright and undisturbed, that infuriating dunce nowhere to be found. There were no boots, no burns, no evidence of anyone being here for years. Except her.

"Jaune?" she rose to one knee, eyes swinging across the clearing as she did. "Jaune?" Her voice reverberated off the leaves, an endless chorus of his name through the rustle of green.

"Jaune?!" Her voice cracked ever so slightly, hand tightening on Myrtenaster as she whirled around on her feet. _You're panicking._ " _Jaune?!_ " Myrtenaster hissed against its sheath as she brought it to bear. _Calm. You need to be calm._ How was she supposed to be calm?! That-that idiot was right behind her not five seconds ago, trudging through the wasteland of - she staggered, the air torn from her lungs - _Vacuo_.

Since when did Vacuo have-have-have _forests?!_

Her mouth moved dumbly, but no noise came.

Where _was_ she?

Dilated eyes scanned the forest a third time, willing it to twist back into soot stained sandstone and a sea of pollution, but the leaves just rustled, the birds just chirped, and the squirrels just tittered in defiance.

Eyes of ice chips slammed shut as grass crunched beneath her, Myrtenaster digging into the ground as she leant on it for support. The last thing she remembered was escorting a group of scientists and archaeologists to some Vacuan ruins with Jaune. She'd been ranting at him about how just because his new hoodie breathed didn't make it suitable desert clothing. He'd just smiled that maddeningly disarming smile, and retorted that her attitude or her ice Dust would have to keep him cool. Then...then...there was nothing. It was simply the smile, then the sick, and now she was here.

How? Why? Where? The same questions shot through her mind in a flurry of disbelief, befuddlement, and sheer panic. She was at a loss.

 _This does not befit you,_ her mind chided. _You are better than this, deep breaths. Reign yourself in._

One breath and closed eyes, exhale, second breath, exhale. Back straight and eyes opening she took another, deeper breath, let it fill her, and exhaled as slowly as possible.

 _You are a Schnee._

A steely calm crushed the panic she had felt underfoot, and, without its cloud, her options became much clearer, strategies more apparent. As they always did when panic was removed.

A hand engulfed in wintery blue combat gloves slid into her right pocket, struggling for half a second to get a proper grip on the slick, weathered steel of her scroll. She extended it with a click, noting all the nicks and scratches with a frown. _19\. Precisely the amount as last time._ She nodded to herself, at least something was as it should be.

White digits glowed steadily in the glass of the screen: 6:48pm. Glacial eyes flicked up to the Sun, noting its position before concluding that the time was in fact likely for...well, wherever it is she was.

It was also the beginning of the weekend (though she had no way of verifying that) in the year - huh. Odd. She checked the scroll for scratches and nicks again, coming back with the same 19 imperfections. But, well, none of them had caused any performance issues before, and she didn't get any stomach fluid on the device, so why was it acting up now?

 _Attempting to decipher inconsequential technical glitches in potentially hostile territory._ She huffed at herself, _what am I? An amateur?_

She straightened her back and sighed, shoving the immense anxiety over her partner's absence to the recesses of her mind. Jaune was a perfectly capable Huntsman, one of the best alive, she knew that. _Still manages to hurt himself getting out of bed though_ , she thought, a fond smile growing on her face. He'd be alright.

If he wasn't, she'd flay him.

"No way to go but forward," she muttered to the crinkling leaves before her. The beating sun fading to a sprinkled caress as the leaves swallowed her. The forest was much like any other, and yet she still found it beautiful, if a little chaotic. Birds and leaves tussled above her, while animals on the floor kicked and dashed through the brush, each blissfully unperturbed by the possibility of getting disemboweled by the creatures of Grimm.

 _Though,_ she supposed, _practically everything else will kill them, so maybe that's only fair._

Schnee minds do not wander, they are better than that, but they do analyze, assess, and act. _One of the few sayings Father had that was appropriate._ Yang, and later Nora, had always teased her about it, but that didn't make it any less true. She shook her head, scolding herself inwardly for letting her thoughts slip away from the situation at hand.

It was...an interesting one, that was for sure. She didn't have much experience with waking up and not knowing how she had gotten there - that had been Yang's area of expertise - though she did have some. An image of Ren and Nora's wedding leapt to mind, and her escapade at the Drunken Noodle, as everyone had come to call it, much to her annoyance. Though, waking up in a strange noodle shop after a wedding, and waking up in the middle of a forest after a mission in Vacuo were somewhat different. Jaune would've given her hell for _that_ understatement.

Try as she might, though, she could still remember nothing more about how she came to be here, and, while her head hurt, it wasn't the pounding of a hangover.

The more she walked and thought the more her brain slammed against a brick wall again and again. Her steps became stomps, and the green around her seemed to flinch every time her footfalls sounded.

It just _didn't make sense._ What happened in Vacuo? How did she get here? Where even was here? A frown of worry split her face and wormed its way into her gut. Where was Jaune? Was he back in Vacuo? Did he know what happened? Was he hurt? Was he ali- _no._ She stopped dead, eyes screwed shut. _He_ must _be alive. I will not consider otherwise._

He was her partner, and she his. Each were all the other had left.

 _He won't die on me. Not while I still breathe._

That didn't mean she wouldn't give him the verbal thrashing of a lifetime should he be hurt, and wouldn't that be just like him? "Caught in a strange new place?" she mocked, her voice dropping several octaves to imitate his, "I should go out and find new Grimm all on my own! Maybe find out how expansive the medicaid here is!"

He could be _so_ frustrating.

But, as he never failed to remind to her, frustrating was better than dead.

'Usually,' she'd respond.

It made her smile, and the forest seemed that much less confining.

Something squelched beneath her boot, and her good mood shattered. Another one-hundred paces had her aching for a Grimm, any Grimm, to leap at her from the brush, just so she could have something to vent her frustration upon. It was far too long before the sun began to set, dousing the green and brown of the woods in viciously beautiful orange. Every leaf was alight, every stream was a line of glimmering crystal. It really was quite beautiful, even if the area did its best to confound her.

With every step the brilliant orange of the sky dulled to an ever richer purple, and with every step the world around her began to quiet. The birds ceased their songs, and the squirrels and rabbits scuttled to a halt. Her hand tightened around the rapier at her waist as two chips of glacier swiveled and scanned the boughs above her for an adequate place to rest.

It didn't take long to find one to her liking, the trees here were old hardwoods, their roots and trunks as gnarled as they were thick, but the branches were sturdy, dense, and high up. So there's that.

Bark cracked and snapped as sharpened steel dug into it. Splinters and flecks of moss sprinkled onto milk-white skin as she shook them loose in her quest to get higher. Camping alone in Grimm infested territory was always an interesting endeavor. Being on the ground was by far the worst option for reasons only a moron couldn't understand, but being in the tallest bough of a tree was only slightly less dangerous. _Especially in an area with unknown Grimm._

It left one too open to the sky.

'The sky is the realm of birds and Grimm,' Winter would say, 'we made it ours as well through science and willpower, but we were never meant to be there.' Ruby's uncle Qrow - only ten feet to go - had seemed to be the only one who ever felt at home there. _Though more at home at the bottom of his flask,_ a grunt as she hefted herself onto the branch she'd been eyeing, _till the very end._

Flashes of a Reaper with salt rivers flowing from her eyes while an ocean of flaming gold roared beside her leapt unbidden to her mind. She did her best to shove them down. _There is a time and a place._

Platinum hair brushed against chittering leaves in a chorus of rustles. The reinforced steel-dust alloy of Myrtenaster and her scattered bits of plate thunked against the tree, its dull protests silenced by the cloth of her coat. Her eyes traced the sky above her, roaming through each constellation she'd ever learned. Roain the Soldier was always Winter's favorite, and The Twin Hunters had always been Whitley's. A small smile played on her lips, somehow he had never noticed that he, the only non-Hunter member of the family, loved the Hunter Memorial constellation the most.

Her eyelids began to droop as the white noise of nature lured her to sleep, but still one hand remained on the hilt of her rapier. _Just in case._

* * *

It was still night when she woke. The shattered moon and scattered stars twinkled distractedly above, but her mind was focused on the world around her.

She was stock still, and something was wrong.

It (probably) wasn't anything deadly, but if she was awake, then it wasn't included in normal woodland sounds for...wherever she was. The breeze tickled her face and taunted the hair she had so tightly bound, cicadas droned their endless song, and an owl wouldn't cease its hoot- _crunch clank._

She smiled and readied Myrtenaster, the sheath hardly making a noise as it shifted.

 _Crunch clank -_ one foot forward towards the edge of the branch - _crunch clank -_ the groan of wood as the branch complained - _crunch clank._

It was right below her.

With nothing more than a thought a glyph appeared below and in front of her target. Light as brief and bright as lightning consumed everything in pure, unadulterated whiteness. She was used to it by now, comfortable with it, so it didn't hurt her. The same couldn't be said for the man below as he cursed and froze at the sight before him.

A Beowulf Alpha stood at 8"4' before him, it's coat a perfect, snowy white dotted with specks of winter-morning blue. It did not move.

She landed with a thud, Myrtenaster's steel slicing into the earth like it wasn't even there. "I'm sorry, sir," her voice drawled as she rose, head tilted to inspect the scarred steel of her gauntlet as casually as possible, "I'm afraid this area is off limits to civilians like yourself. Please turn around and head back -" her words were cut by a grunt, but she wasn't sure whose it was. A wall of steel, flesh, and soul barreled into her, arms as strong as an Ursa wrapping her in a vice of a hug.

He didn't say anything, and she was too shocked and strangled to reply.

His arms were strong, the little cloth that wasn't beneath armor was coarse and speckled with pinpricks of wetness indicating mud or rainwater. The familiar scent of juniper, sweat, weapon lubricant, and field clothes filled her mind, contested only by the chirping of the cicadas. She let it overwhelm her, the mountain of anxiety over her partner's safety melting in the warmth of the contact.

It was nice. It was quiet. She liked it.

He pulled away too soon, sapphire blue eyes meeting the glacial ice of her own; they were overflowing with relief, and just a tad misty. A smile, one tinted with concern worked its way onto her face. "You okay?" It might've been an unnecessary question, might've been obvious, but she wanted to let him speak for himself.

"Yeah," Jaune replied, sparing a glance for the forest around them, "just worried about you was all." His hand drifted from the pommel of Crocea Mors to the red, pink, and green cloth wrapped around his waist.

She had been worried about him too of course, _much more than I thought I was,_ but she knew he'd worry about her worrying about him, and Dust knows _that_ wasn't a cycle she wanted to start again. Still hate to make him worry though, _hypocrite or not_. "Unnecessary," she stated, it was very unlikely anything in this forest - or beyond - could kill them, and any _one_ that could was a friend, "but appreciated."

Green, black, and brown danced to the steady tune of the night sky behind him (She'd given up on actually trying to see _over_ him years ago, and around worked just as well.), the leaves and bugs whispering their chorus. "I don't suppose you ran into anyone else on the way?"

"Not a one, unless you count trees as people. You?"

She sighed, "the same. My scroll has been acting up as well, which means -"

"We've got a long walk," he finished, grass and twigs cracking underfoot as he moved down the path.

The ground slipped by beneath her, the decay of the forest floor muffling each step. Jaune carried on a scant five feet ahead in his patchwork armor, dodging branches a foot and a half above her head. They didn't talk, and she didn't mind. Were it not for the void in her mind and her malfunctioning scroll, it would've been just another kill-mission.

But it wasn't.

Her left hand tightened around the hilt of Myrtenaster, head snapping from shadow to shadow in the brush, waiting for any of them to sprout crimson eyes. _We don't know how we got here. We don't know where_ here _is._ Fingers brushed against the pocket that held her scroll, _no contact with anyone, no location, malfunctioning electronics_ -

"Weiss," he whispered, and she started internally "c'mere."

He was only a few feet down the trail, standing so obviously in a glow that any sniper worth their salt could've easily blown his head clean off. She frowned as she walked, "what is - " _oh._

There was a gap in the trees, entirely natural, and through it stretched the endless and perfectly clear night sky. Stars twinkled like gemstones against a burst of pink and purple dust that slashed across the void. The broken moon spilled milky yellow light across the treetops and riverbanks of a massive, emerald valley, that eagerly reflected it back in kind. Every now and then a flare of white would trace its way across the tapestry, leaving behind a brilliant trail of stardust.

"Wow," she whispered, "it's breathtaking."

"Yeah," she turned to face him as he spoke, their faces bathed in starlight. "It is."

Her grip on Myrtenaster relaxed to nothing.

* * *

"So you don't remember anything either then?"

Weiss Schnee shook her head, the firelight dancing rabidly across her face at the movement. "I remember your horribly inappropriate choice of desert clothing," she glared at him, and he had the courtesy to blush ever so slightly, "but nothing else, no." She sighed into her field rations, "I opened my eyes and was simply...here."

Her spoon scraped idly against the tin of the can, scrounging for any remnants of protein left, "Any different from your story?"

"No," he frowned, "pretty much the exact same really, though I threw up when I...landed, I guess?"

She smirked, "you did? How very typical that your motion sickness holds up through teleportation." She'd vomited too of course, _but he doesn't need to know that._

Jaune blushed and laughed, orange light glinting off his teeth as one hand rose to scratch his head in a tick she knew by heart. "My dad would say it's all about consistency, so at least there's that?"

Giggles burst from her lips, something about that meek on him look always made her giggle, Winter would call it ill suited for a Huntsman. She couldn't disagree more. "What?" His cheeks were bright red now, "What'd I do?"

That only made her giggles devolve into laughter. A small part of her noted how at odds the sound was with the forest around them. She ignored it. "Nothing," she replied through a storm of snorts, "nothing at all."

Crimson remained splashed on his cheeks, but the orange of the fire camouflaged it quite well, and so did the MRE that his face was currently buried in. Her hips shifted to find comfortable purchase one this damnable log, though knots and bark still pricked through her dress. It's not that she wasn't used to 'roughing it,' as it were, it's just that, well, the past two days had been _long_ to say the least. Gargantuan didn't seem to do the forest justice. It was interminable. For four and a half whole days they'd hiked and slashed their way through unknown territory, and the only other humans they'd encountered had been centuries old skeletons in equally ancient ruins. They had about four more days of MREs left, but after that it was time to _hunt._ Weiss snorted before common sense crushed it. _Xiao-Long what did you do to me?_

A quick shake of her head followed by a slow exhale. _Hunting will not be an issue, and neither shall water with my ice dust and the environment._ The place certainly wasn't the endless wastes of Vacuo that was for sure. _It's rather lush all things considered, no Mistrali rainforest, but it beats the taiga of home._

It had been a while since she'd thought of home. Not years, but easily months. _I wonder if Whitley has people searching for us..._ if only her gods-damned scroll could get a call through. She hmm'ed to herself, before glancing up, "Jaune, do you th-" the man across from her almost jumped, head snapping to her with slightly-wider-than-normal eyes. "Lost in thought?" She questioned. He had been, obviously, but better to let him tell her about it than to pry.

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess. It's just that...well…" She waited, but nothing more came, his sapphire eyes picking apart every shrub and oak around them.

"Just that…?"

His eyes remained locked on the woods. "This place, these woods. They feel, I dunno, familiar somehow."

One or two rogue strands of hair shifted into view as she cocked her head. "You mean to say you've been here before?"

"Maybe. I just…," Jaune shook his head almost imperceptibly, "I don't know. It'll be easier to tell when the sun rises."

A smile creeped onto her face, "Like the past four days perhaps?"

Chuckles bubbled from his lips like spring water, cool and refreshing against her mind. "Yeah, like the past four days. No one's ever called me observant."

Her legs hissed and whined as she rose, each footfall around their petite campfire deliberate and calculated. "Maybe not to matters of the heart," she spoke, one hand reaching to Myrtenaster to stoke the fire with as she crouched. "Or anything social really…"

"Gee thanks, Weiss."

Embers and smoke curled its way into the sky, the fire cackling at each poke. " _But_ , when it comes to other subjects - battle, strategy, analysis - you can be surprisingly sharp."

"'Surprisingly?'" Crocea Mors scraped against the bark of a log as the man behind her shifted and mumbled.

"Yes, surprisingly." Her smile grew wider. "To those who knew you before, and during, Beacon that is. You have to admit, you didn't make the best of impressions."

Weiss could see the tiny cringe on the man's face, but she didn't blame him. Her own behavior at the start of Beacon had been equally unacceptable. "Putting it mildly," he said, eyes lost in the fire. Lost in the past.

"I wasn't any better," she stated. He nodded, but said nothing.

A sigh slipped from her lips, "your behavior is nothing to be ashamed of, Jaune. We were all teenagers at some point, and none of us were graceful about it." He nodded again, eyes locked on the fire, and Weiss moved to sit beside him on that weathered stone.

His left hand was white, drained of blood with knuckles ready to breach the skin. Her own hand fell across his, firelight dancing off her complexion. "They would be proud of us," her voice was soft, but insistent. "Happy for us. All of them."

The tendons in his hand relaxed slowly, his eyes sparkling with firelight and wetness. "I know," he said, the patchwork quilt of his armor shifting under the desperate stroke of his right hand. Gold, green, pink, and white steel sparkled with orange light. His hair bounced as he turned to her, a small, sad smile on his face. "I really do. Sometimes it hits harder than others though." She nodded gently, knowing exactly what he meant.

"You see something they'd enjoy, that they'd love," she said, eyes drifting up to the night sky sparkling with light. "Like that valley, like the sky," she smiled, "somehow even the MRE, and you can't help but think about what they'd say, about what you'd share together." She sighed again. "I know it's so easy to get lost in that, but it only makes the past hurt more. Nothing can be changed except the future. We're partners, Jaune, no matter what, and -"

"We'll help guide each other out," they spoke, the hand under hers flipping up to return her grip.

Weiss Schnee smiled. "Yes," glacier blue and sapphire met, twinkling in the firelight. "Yes we will."

* * *

"That...that can't be right." _Impossible. Simply impossible._ "That can't be there, _we_ can't be _here_."

"I know," the man beside her said.

"It doesn't make _sense_! We would remember!" Her left hand fiddled with Myrtenaster's hilt. A tick she'd had for as long as she'd had the rapier.

"I know." He merely stared at it, its emerald tower lights unmissable against the purple of the evening sky.

"How," she whispered, "how did this happen?"

"I don't know."

Hair white as snow whipped in the cool breeze as she rounded on him, mouth open and ready to shout. She stopped herself before she could though. _He knows as much as you. Stay calm. Control yourself._ One deep breath, she held it and let it fill her. _Exhale._

She opened her eyes to see Jaune trying to smother laughter. _I take it back. Who needs calm? Stab him_.

"What," she practically spat.

The blonde tried to quietly bite his lip, but Jaune, even after her telling him a thousand times, was about as subtle as a drunken ox. He chuckled again, smile wide, and she growled. _About as smart too._

"Nothing, nothing at all."

Glacier eyes narrowed.

"You're just…" sapphire eyes flitted back to the familiar tower in the distance.

"Just _what_?"

Steel clanked as his shoulders rose and fell, and that _infuriating_ smile was still in place. "You're just so tiny."

Cicadas sang their songs, the leaves whispered, and Weiss' eyebrow twitched, her shoulders stock still. _He doesn't need to live._ "My size allows for greater maneuverability during combat and provides for a smaller target, and has caused many a fatal underestimation of my abilities. But a lumbering brute like yourself wouldn't understand anything about grace or fluidity now would they?"

He chuckled again. _Again._ "No, I guess I wouldn't."

"I'm glad you recognize your shortcomings -" her eyes widened ever so slightly at the word and intake of breath from her partner. "Say it and you'll and I'll freeze you solid _,"_ she growled.

Laughter burst out from beside her, cracking through the birdsongs and leaves, sending the fauna scuttling for cover. Leather found her face and gripped the bridge of her nose, "can we please get back to the currently _impossible_ situation?"

"Right," another laugh. Her grip tightened, "Beacon," he stated.

"Yes. Beacon."

"They must've finished the renovations early," one of his palms scraped its way to his belt, "a shame Cardin and Velvet didn't invite us for the ceremony, but I guess we aren't often, y'know, _reachable_."

She didn't know whether to nod or sigh. On the one hand, yes, everything he said was correct, especially the unreachable part. The CCT signal often didn't reach to whatever frontier town or Grimm nest that they'd trudged out to, and Cardin and Velvet wouldn't be able to hold up such a vital ceremony for two Hunters, no matter their names. They would, and did, understand. On the other hand, that hadn't been what she was referring to at all, _but he has to know that._

"You know what I meant," she said, head lolling back against her shoulders as she closed her eyes and stared at what she hoped was the sky.

"How'd we get here?"

A nod, though with how her head was positioned it looked more like a spasm. She could hear his hand reach up to scratch the top of his head, a tick he'd had since she'd first met him at Beacon. "I don't really know -"

"Who could've guessed," she drawled.

"- but someone there will definitely be able to help us, been too long since we've seen Velv anyway hasn't it?"

 _It would be nice to see them, yes._ A sigh. "Let our arrival remain a mystery for now then, I suppose?"

Another scratch while the other hand hooked inside his belt. "Yeah. For now. We can ask Velvet and Cardin if Vale's sensors detected anything wonky out where we were, and, if that doesn't work, then we can scour the library."

White eyebrows peaked at that, and not just because it was Jaune of all people suggesting they head back there. The man had feared that place like it was Hell itself. "It would be nice to go back to the library," a small smile grew on her lips at the thought of those halls and the memories they held, "I like it."

Steel clanked and grass crunched as the two started down the hill.

* * *

According to her scroll it was well past midnight; 2:03am, to be precise. Jaune had still wanted to drop by Beacon, maybe wake up Velvet and Cardin.

'Over my dead body,' had been her response.

Velvet worked day in and day out to keep that school running, and she wouldn't allow her partner's rudeness to get in the way of the sleep that made it possible. So instead, they had wandered down into Vale itself.

The rolling hills, open pastures, endless fields of crops, and the occasional guard dog had been their only opponents on the stroll through the Agri District. It was quite remarkable honestly, and still, after all these years, she couldn't get over the surprise. When people (her included) thought of Vale, they thought of a city overflowing with people all packed like sardines. Every nook and cranny was filled with buildings, roads, and garbage, and the only trees were far outside the walls. Imagine their surprise when they found out they were wrong, that almost 3/4ths of the walled territory of Vale was farmland and forest.

She had thought she was being made a fool of back when Ruby had told her, but the girl's eyes hadn't held an ounce of mischievous glint. It took a whole outing - forced by Ruby and Yang - for that to really be hammered home.

And it still felt off.

How could anyone justify so much empty space? Maybe her perspective had been warped by Atlas' obsession with using every square foot possible, but it just didn't seem worth it to have so many empty acres when you could produce the same amount of food with 1/7th of the land in an Agriculture Tower.

Ruby and Yang had been, well, quite opposed to that idea. _They treasured their green spaces though. Loved them. How many Valean citizens actually make use of this area though?_

Before she even realized it, the silence of her footfalls ceased, replaced by the crack of stone. The rolling hills were gone, and the towering, grey confines of Vale proper replaced the green. Her left hand fell to Myrtenaster's hilt, and she noticed Jaune do the same with Crocea Mors in the corner of her vision. Her head snapped from alley to window and back again, prowling for any sign of movement or ambush.

It was far too easy to hide one in a city like this, and being on the open sidewalk was...unnerving.

Weiss' teeth ground together as a child dashed out of an alley with a ball and a friend. Myrtenaster's chamber whirled and cocked, half out of its sheath before she caught herself. "I don't like this," she and her sheath hissed.

The blond on her front right nodded, a curt, jerky thing with his posture being as locked as it was. "On the bright side it looks...well, really nice. Incredibly nice."

An agreeable hum played on her lips as she took in the architecture. _Relax. You must look like a strung-out addict._ "True, an incredible job by the council, I've yet to see a single scar from the Fall." A frown, "Velvet probably had to strongarm them into it though."

"You think so?"

She nodded, those damn rogue strands itching across her face, "I do. They were never ones to part easily with money."

The man beside her thought that over, one hand scratching the beard on his face while the other remained locked on his weapon. "I guess so," his armor clanked as he shrugged, "but you'd think they'd be just as eager to rebuild their home as anyone else, right?"

"Maybe," her eyes flitted to the holo-lights around them, towering, sky-blue poles that served as streetlights throughout the city. When was the last time she saw one of _those_? "I suppose I might be biased, never been their biggest fan."

"I get that, especially when coming from Atlas like you did. Everyone does politics diff-"

The ground beneath them shook, a hungry fireball ripping through the nighttime tranquility a scant half-mile away.

Hydraulics whirred and compressed beneath her as she launched into a run, the man beside her keeping pace on her front right, shield out. Their go-to formation. They barrelled past a teenage couple locked together, then an open-all-night convenience store's shopkeep that had poked out to see what the ruckus was about. There was group of ganger kids that retreated into an alley when they saw them, an old couple, and a woman with a dog that was losing its mind at the light. All of them at least had the presence of mind to hear the pair coming and dodge so as not to get bowled over. Admittedly however, one would have to be _very_ out of it to not hear their commotion, so that wasn't saying much.

The fire grew ever larger as they approached, two more, smaller explosions feeding its glare and roar. The closer they got, the fewer houses and shops there were, and the more warehouses, offices, industrial docking sites, and construction equipment there was. Rust coated most every surface they passed like scabs on a wound, and the scent of dead fish, sea salt, and fumes combined with the ozone of burning Dust slammed against her senses. _Exactly how it used to be._

Dilapidated walls stained red and orange by the raging fire crept ever closer to them on either side, moaning like wounded beasts. Rancid puddles with boats of trash splashed up her legs as she shattered their stagnancy, the moon rippling in shock. The walls creaked as a shockwave rolled down their alleyway and sent Jaune's hair writhing. Her own did not budge.

A cry ping-ponged off the corrugated metal, warping with every bounce. The voice was familiar, but she could not pin down just who it was. _Unimportant. Keep your guard up_. Fire roared at the mouth of the black, a light of chaos in the night that they leapt through. Weiss Schnee and Jaune Arc sprinted out of the alleyway and stopped dead in their tracks, the cloth wrapped around them whiplashing back into place.

Two pairs of eyes, one icy and the other ocean blue went wide for, framed in the firelight before them, was Penny Polendina, her swords whirling in a wiry dance. Alive.

She was alive.

* * *

 **A/N: Hello and welcome to** ** _For Those We Are Yet to Lose_** **! I've had this idea dwelling in the back of my mind for a very long time now, planning and replanning its story. The plot has gone through so many revisions in my head that it's almost unrecognizable, and this chapter has gotten just as many rewrites. But** _ **goddamn**_ **has it been fun. The pairing for this story is WhiteKnight (Weiss and Jaune, shocker right?), but the two aren't together at the moment, just very, very close. This story will center around Weiss and Jaune's experiences and emotions after having accidentally gotten time warped. I think it'll be a lot of fun, and I can't wait to write something that will actually have planned and focused romance! I really am a sucker for the stuff, and I hope I do it justice.**

 **Anyway, enough about my ramblings, this chapter was mostly setup and character windows. Give us a good idea of how the two interact, of what they feel, of how things are, or** _ **were**_ **before everything went all sci-fi.**

 **Tell me anything and everything that y'all would/wouldn't like to see via reviews or PM! We can have a chat about interactions, characterization, or even future plot points if you're willing to help me iron out some of the more meticulous details! In general, just tell me what you think, it always makes my day to hear from y'all!**

 **Older Jaune was probably the hardest part of this chapter to write. Trying to make him seem more somber and mature, but still trying to fit in the inherent social clumsiness that makes Jaune who he is was very difficult, and I'm still not really sure how I did on that front. Just a heads up, this story will switch back and forth between Jaune and Weiss PoV, but I don't think it'll be like a "one chapter is Weiss then the next is Jaune, etc" sort of deal, it'll be more inconsistent. Some chapters may even have both PoVs in one, but that should be kinda rare.**

 **Have a good day out there, and stay safe y'all!**


	2. Just Another Mission

_Tick, tock, tick, tock._

Weiss' mouth was taut, eyes checking the lines of the man before her. Grey hair, green scarf, black and brown suit, a cane resting solidly against their table, and -

 _Sssssiiiiiiiiiip._ Her left eye twitched.

\- and his coffee cup.

 _Tick, tock, tick, to-_

Paper shuffled as Ozpin exhaled. "So, Miss...Snjór is it?"

"Yes sir, it is."

Brown eyes drifted back down to the documents, roving steadily from left to right, "and you seek a position here at Beacon Academy, correct?"

Freshly dyed black hair tickled her neck as she nodded. She hated it. "That is correct, sir."

One nod, two, and another sip from the man across from her. "May I inquire as to why?"

 _To stop it from falling, to protect the Maiden, to save_ you - "I've always wanted to teach," she lied, "my own teachers probably had a hand in inspiring that. I want to make sure that the next generation of Hunters will be the best they can be. I can do more here, maybe not in the short run, but in the long run I could make our Hunters better. Better Hunters means more lives saved."

Headmaster Ozpin nodded as she spoke, chewing over each syllable with a tap of his hand and a sip of his drink. "I can certainly empathize with that, Miss Snjór, but I must confess, it is odd for a Huntress to apply for a teaching position at an age as young as yours. To most it is a retirement position. So, why teach now?"

 _You've got to sell it,_ her mind whispered, _straight back, straight face_ ; she forced a smile, making sure to show its strain. "I...recently lost both my legs while eliminating a hive of Deathstalkers with my partner. I could use some time to...get back on my feet." She could feel Yang slapping her on the back for that one. "No pun intended."

Pity worked its way into Ozpin's eyes, and, though he hid it well, there was a smidgen of hope there too. _Wants to keep me here even after I "recover," maybe?_

"Pincer?" he inquired in a somber baritone, brown eyes not leaving her own blue.

"Landmine," she corrected, and smiled at the glint of surprise she saw sparkling in the brown. "A relic of The Great War or Faunus Rebellions probably, maybe even a local trying to protect their family," a small shrug of her shoulders accompanied by the intrusive tickle of hair, "these things happen."

"That they do." Ozpin's lips quirked just the tiniest bit upward, but whether it was from something she'd done or the taste of his coffee she didn't know. "Your resolve to not dawdle in the pain of the change is admirable, given how fresh it must be."

The candle of her pride grew a bit taller at that, and she couldn't help the smile that spread over her face despite the wild inaccuracy of the timeframe. "I appreciate that, sir; it certainly hasn't been easy."

"I don't doubt that," the man across her replied, the mid-morning clouds coasting lazily on the breeze behind his head. "But, back to the matter at hand: were you looking for any specific position?"

"Not one in particular I suppose," her gaze drifted over to the window taking in every brick and beam of the Beacon campus she could. She still had a hard time believing it was there, and, based on the looks she'd caught from Jaune, she wasn't alone in that. 'We're never alone,' he'd respond.

It was the sip of coffee that forced her out of her reverie and back to the, very important, situation at hand. _Careless_. "My most extensive and helpful expertise lies with the manipulation of - and science behind - Dust. Its uses in combat, history, and theoretical applications are my forte, so an ideal position would allow me to impart that expertise to the students somehow." The clouds lazed on, and the shadows on the stone of Beacon weren't much different. "I don't care if it's through an assistant role or through my own course, as long as I'm not _useless_ ," there was a bite to that word, despite how she tried to swallow it, "and can teach them about it."

Ticking filled the vacuum of sound her words had left behind, swallowing her whole as her eyes drifted back to the window, to Beacon. Ozpin didn't seem to mind, his own focus on the stack of papers before him again.

It was on the sixty-seventh tick that they blended into one, and her thoughts slipped away from the moment and to the past week. Beacon's scenery had always had that effect on her. It was comforting to welcome it back. One week since the incident at the Docks, about two since she and Jaune had found themselves…'back in time.' It had been zero seconds since that whole idea didn't sound absolutely ludicrous. Frankly, she still wasn't sure if it was some sort of shared hallucination. _But even if it is..._ well, she'd get the most out of it.

Anyway, they'd decided that sinking back into the alley and watching the docks from the rooftops was the best option. After Weiss had torched the way they'd came with a wave of fire dust, but, as she had _told_ Jaune, that was always her reaction whenever Sustrai would try her mind games. It was instinctive.

'Tell that to the roasted rats,' he'd said.

They'd gotten a hotel room, as the lien they carried on them was still valid, but since their bank account didn't technically _exist_ yet, they didn't (don't) have anything more than the money they'd had on their persons. They'd...talked didn't seem like the right word, but neither did 'argued'... _discussed_ their situation for hours, and it was Jaune's idea to not launch into search and destroy mode straight away, despite her objections. They had knowledge of everything that was going to happen for a while. The details of their year at Beacon before it fell were mutually fuzzy, a lifetime or two ago for them both, but the gist was still there. _Plus, seeing it all again has already jogged a few details,_ the beauty of Beacon's campus perhaps being the biggest.

To make a long story short, they decided that being at Beacon as often as possible was essential to finding the ideal time to act, but they were both too old to pass as students so Professors or TAs it was. That was the ideal at least. Security, or just plain freeloading on campus were other options, but they were banking on Beacon hiring temps to gear up for the influx of students from the Vytal Festival.

As for her "new" hair...well, her old snow-white shade was simply too rare to tolerate. She already resembled her past self enough, it wouldn't do for anyone to pick up on rumors of a bastard Schnee child teaching at Beacon.

That didn't mean she had to _like_ the change though. It clashed with just about everything about her, and she didn't realize how much she loved her natural hair color until she was doused in the polar opposite.

So, here she sat, jet black hair bound in a ponytail as her eyes scanned the drifting clouds and swirling leaves of Beacon Academy while its zombie headmaster interviewed her for a job. A teaching position where she'd be educating younger versions of almost everyone she cared about, and all the while trying to protect them from a women that had died years ago.

Surreal didn't quite do it justice.

It was the clip of Ozpin's voice that focused her thoughts again as her eyes glanced at the clock. Fifteen minutes of silence. _Oh_. "Well, Miss Snjór," finality laced his voice, and her neck tensed up, "there is one more step before we officially welcome you to the staff here at Beacon -," a sigh slipped from her lips, and she let herself relax "- and it is a vital one. But, should all go well, I'd be more than happy to sign you on myself."

A nod, and that _damned_ tickle of hair.

"Seeing as this is a teaching position we would like to see how you handle a classroom of students and a day's worth of material, as well as evaluate your expertise in Dust and its uses. In short, we need to see how you teach."

* * *

"Yeah, Ozpin told me the same." A pause as Jaune's brows furrowed, "though with strategy and analysis instead of Dust." Bread, meat, and cheese filled his mouth not a second later, but his eyes were zeroed in on the facades of the buildings around them.

"It makes perfect sense, I don't know why I'd never considered it as part of the process before." _Legitimately, am I dull? How did I not see this coming?_ "Of course they want to evaluate your _teaching_ skills if they're going to hire you as a _teacher_." She sighed at herself. Some comfort was provided by Ruby and Yang's uncle Qrow managing to snag a position at Signal, but surely Beacon would be more rigorous than that!

Right?

"I donf't knowfsh 'ow we didn' shee id cohming," Jaune remarked, before a pale hand smacked his own. "Shorry," his brows shifted down and his cheeks puffed out, eyes wide for half a second. Sheepish, that was the word.

"Honestly, did nobody ever teach you not to speak with your mouth full?" Not that it mattered if they didn't, it'd just be a few more years of bad habits to tear down before she could bring him out in public. He was lucky there wasn't food during the interview, or Ozpin wouldn't have understood him enough to even know what he was applying for. "I suppose it doesn't matter either way though, we've got to get it done and do it well."

Blond hair bounced up and down in the lilting breeze as Jaune nodded, chewing twice more before the sandwich disappeared in a single gulp. "I think we'll be fine honestly, Beacon seems to ah, 'tolerate eccentrics,' pretty widely. I'm just worried about the setting y'know? Will it be in a normal lecture hall, or are we going to be in a sparring room like combat class was?"

Pink lips stretched into a thin line. "I don't know, but I...I'd assume mine will be in a lecture hall, though it could be sparring." One finger tapped the table with as much force as the wind. "I could see yours going either way."

A few stray crumbs slipped from Jaune's lips as he nodded slightly again, eyes trailing the cast-iron railing separating them from the city. She'd traced them a thousand times before, but still found herself following the lines of his face. To gauge his thoughts. Of course.

Air tripped through her throat with a cough, and Jaune's gaze drifted back to her. _Damn food going down the wrong way._ "It wouldn't be too disastrous either way, but it requires preparing two separate lectures. Just in case." Icy irises eyed the purple of the evening sky, as deep and rich as the Major Lakes of Atlas on a Spring night. Cold air nipping at the nape of her neck forced a shiver out of her. _If only it was_ _Spring._ "Speaking of which, we should get back to the hotel before the light fades completely." They needed rest, and stalking through the city at night was not a risk she wanted to take again. _Especially if Cinder and the White Fang are back._ She'd be twitchier than Ironwood at a gun convention.

Jaune grunted in agreement before slamming the last of his sandwich into his mouth. Weiss Schnee rolled her eyes, but couldn't stamp out the smile that played on her lips.

The walk back to their hotel ( _The Wandering Beowulf_ as it was called) was over before they realized it. One second they'd been going back and forth with ideas and lecture plans outside the cafe, and the next she was trudging into their bathroom for a shower.

Jet black hair came down in a torrent as she undid her ponytail, whispering its thanks as it tickled her neck and elicited a growl. The bits of plate came next, followed by her boots and combat pants. Coat, shirt, then underwear all joined the motley folded wardrobe with a sigh.

It took her far more time than it should have to figure out the shower. Why couldn't they just be standardized? What purpose did every hotel having a different shower mechanism _possibly_ serve?!

 _At least left is still hot,_ it had been an exercise in willpower to not rip _that_ whole building's plumbing out of the ground - scalding water slammed into her back -, but Ruby and Yang had managed to talk her down.

 _Ruby. Yang. Blake. They're alive._

She...she didn't know what to make of that to tell the truth. They'd been dead for so long and her grief had been buried, then dug up and dealt with alongside Jaune's before the festering rotted them both away. Different people. They were different people, all of them.

And now they had a chance to assure they'd be almost unrecognizable. Snip the war in the bud before it had the chance to begin, rip all that pain away from their friends, from themselves. Let them live.

Did that make her own life invalid? Did it matter if she died if there was another her waiting to live a _good_ life?

Footsteps on the hardwood, and a knock on the open door. A switch clicked, and the fan overhead inhaled the blanket of steam that clung to her. "You okay, Weiss?"

Hot water rushed over her lips as she nodded. And waited. _Curtain you idiot, he can't see you._ Her throat braced and her lips coiled to say yes, but…

It wouldn't come.

"I...do we matter, Jaune?" The skin on her back burned, but a chill she couldn't shake had settled in her spine. "Did we live through all that we did as some sort of extended premonition? Are we just an example of what could go wrong, what _needs_ to be prevented?" A crack in the timbre of her voice. "Was someone or-or some _thing_ not satisfied so it just slammed the reset button and is using us as insurance to make sure this time is the _right_ time?"

The water began to cool.

"If...if we fail, and it all happens again...would we just get sent back again? If _we_ \- _you_ and _me_ \- died, but our -" she swallowed, "- younger selves live...then will they get sent back too? A-A-And -"

He couldn't take it anymore. The crack in her voice, the despair in her tone, the confusion, the hopelessness, the loss. It tore his insides apart more than any Grimm ever could, and not just because he felt it too. Because it was his partner.

Because it was Weiss.

Jaune Arc threw back the shower curtain with a swipe from his right arm while his left drew Weiss into a hug. Soaked hair curtained along his undershirt, and the water permeating the back of her frame slid along the skin of his arms.

There was no revelry in seeing her form, he'd seen it a dozen times, and she'd probably seen his more. It was difficult to explain to civilians, or parents, or hunters-in-training, or anyone that had never dealt with the way a Beowulf's claws sliced through plate and cloth and into flesh. Anyone who'd didn't make a habit of ripping bloodstained clothes off a body to field-dress a wound regardless of its placement. It wasn't sexual, it wasn't lust-filled, and, honest to The Brothers, it didn't even cross his mind. It was skin, it was blood, it was organs, it was metal, and they - like his own - were so, _so_ fragile.

The only thing occupying his thoughts, that beat against his skull with each methodic pulse, was how he could help, and what he could say.

Nothing came to mind, so he pulled her closer.

* * *

It was another two days before their test lectures, but it still went by in a heartbeat. She just...there was so much to do, so much that needed discussing and planning and preparing, but there just weren't enough hours in the day.

Her's was the earlier of the two: 11am - 12pm to be precise. Jaune's was going to be from 1:30pm - 2:30pm that same day. Ozpin had mentioned that they were both allowed to observe the other's lecture, but not to interfere or intervene in any way, and, should they be hired, they probably wouldn't have enough time to make a habit of that.

She was fine with that, and grateful to know a more-than-familiar face would be present. Well, besides the ones that were over ten years too young. A frown split Weiss' face for what must've been the fifteenth time that day as she shuffled her notes and papers yet again. There was no guarantee she'd see her old friends, though she'd be surprised if her past self didn't leap on the opportunity to take a special lecture on the mechanics of advanced Dust usage in combat. If that was the case then it was about a fifty/fifty split on whether the rest of RWBY would show up. She probably would've placed bets with Jaune if the thought of seeing their faces didn't unsettle her so deeply.

 _You'll have to see them eventually, might as well do it early and get it over with._

The room before her was almost identical to the fuzzy memories of Beacon's lecture halls that she could manage to scrape up. Several rows of amphitheatre style wooden desks with her, her desk, and her board serving as the focal point of the room. The only difference she could see was that the broad, arched windows were on the student's left instead of their right.

Leather scraped against leather as she shifted in her seat once more before standing up. Jaune shot her a smile and a thumbs-up from his seat next to Ozpin and Goodwitch at the back left. A smile worked its way onto her face in return before she turned.

It was then that the door first opened, they were tall and broad shouldered, but ultimately nobody she knew. _Probably a third year or higher._ Blue eyes flicked to the clock. _10:54am, a little early._ The board groaned as she wrote on it, knuckles as white as the stylus she held by the time she was done. One breath with closed eyes had the trembling in her limbs slow, two had it stop, and a third swallowed her nerves. _Just like a concert, you've done this plenty of times_ : "Ms. Snjór," shone in the top left corner, and below it rested "Advanced Dust Mechanics and Combat Techniques."

It sounded very official, very proper, _as it should_.

One step back as her blue eyes roamed over the handwriting. The knot of unease in her gut eased that much more. It looked - felt - _right._

The equations and basic rules she wrote next had all but been ingrained in her brain over the past two days. They were honestly simple equations, but the principles she wrote beside them were a little more advanced material. _Not by much, though most Huntsmen don't find them important._ A scoff slipped from her lip at that.

Information is vital in combat. Any information. One last glance at the clock: 10:59:40. _Might as well get started…_

Deep breath, again, and again. Black hair whipped as she spun. _Chin high, back straight, hands behind your back._ One sole slammed against the tile as she strode forward and -

Brass crashed against the wall with a blend of stone and shouts. Warning bells blared in her head as she snapped to face the threat, muscles coiled and taut with her left hand grasping for the hilt of -

Silver eyes. Silver eyes wide as saucers stared straight through hers. Weiss' mouth went as dry as the Vacuan wastes in a single hitched breath. Icy eyes drifted behind the silver to meet amber, glacial, sapphire, and emerald.

Ruby, Blake, Pyrrha, and _\- is that what we looked like then?_

A cough from the back left of the room snapped the chains around her. Her back straightened again with enormous effort, hands unclenching as her eyes sought any pair but those of the much too familiar mass in front of her. The muscles in her neck were still hard as stone.

"Please," her voice was unfamiliar and distant, almost cold. "Take your seats. You're just in time."

It hurt to look away, but it hurt even more to look at them all. She wasn't quite sure why that was. The turn back to the lecture hall was stiff and robotic, the words that had been on the tip of her tongue a moment ago had been buried under emotions behind eyes and faces. She coughed. _A good thing I covered my scar._

"Before we begin," her voice had somewhat returned to normal, and she was pleased with how easily it filled the lecture hall, "can any of you tell me how many different types of Dust there are?"

Awkward shuffling as her eyes scanned each face that sat in her (that felt good to think) hall. Most flicked down to a scroll or notepad when eye contact reared its head, others dug into their backpacks for a pencil, but one hand rose in her peripherals. She flinched when she saw the blood-red hair it was attached to.

"Yes, Ms...?"

"Nikos," Pyrrha responded, her voice sliced back to memories that Weiss hadn't thought about in...how many years had it been? Nine? Eight? "There are four basic types of Dust: Burn, Water, Lighting, and Air, corresponding to the colors red, blue, yellow, and white."

Weiss put on her best faux-smile. "Correct, Ms. Nikos. Do you also happen to know how many secondary combination types there are, as well as their effects?"

The redhead's brows scrunched together, lips morphing into a small frown. "I do, but...I'm afraid I can't list them off the top of my head, Professor."

 _Professor Schnee,_ she gave a curt nod to Pyrrha as an alabaster hand shot up to the redhead's right, _that sounds rather nice._ Blue eyes shifted and met a mirror image of their shade, though with a bit more fire and youth in them. It was herself, well, her _younger_ self ( _gods, that_ still _didn't sound right)_ clad in an immaculately pressed Beacon uniform. It rode up a bit more than she thought it had. Weiss gave a quick nod to Weiss, and she felt herself die a little inside.

Red and brown fabric rustled as the young woman - _girl really_ \- straightened up and smiled a triumphant smile. "There are six secondary Dust types, known colloquially as 'mixes.' Cyan, Aquamarine, Glacial, Orange, Forest, and Purple. Steam, Typhoon, Ice, Magma, Plant, and Gravity respectively."

"That is correct, Miss…?"

Young Weiss' spine somehow got even straighter, her smile peaking in self satisfaction. _That was me._ "Schnee," the girl with snowy hair said, "Weiss Schnee."

Older Weiss let a neutral hum escape her lips at that, turning back to the board as she did, one arm outstretched towards the 'Principles of Pure Dust Usage'. There were fifty pairs of eyes in the room before her, but she was only aware of the five that burrowed into her gut from the left. Her voice found steel.

"Discipline. Control. Willpower. Imagination." Each word met a new pair of eyes, and each pair of eyes in turn met their pencils. "The four key requirements for Pure Dust Manipulation. Without discipline you'll drain your aura in under ten minutes, and die immediately after. Without control you _will_ kill a friend, a civilian, or yourself. Without willpower you cannot control the Dust, and it will destroy you. Without imagination then you might as well go back to using Dust Bullets, because that'll be all you can do with Pure Dust Manipulation."

A few pens and pencils scratched paper as she paused, but only a fraction of those in the class. _Suppose that's my lot when they don't have a test._ None of her old...friends? No, that was too familiar, she hardly recognized herself, let alone the others. _Team. That works._ None of her old team made to write, though it looked like Ruby was doodling happily. It hurt to see that again, even though it shouldn't. Her eyes snapped back to the board and her muscles quivered with adrenaline, fingers taut and muscles primed. She couldn't stop her eyes flicking back to a much, much younger pair. A pair of sapphires.

It was going to be a _long_ hour.

* * *

The 11am bell rang not even a second after she finished the last sentence of the last part of her lecture. A few students who had the nerve to pre-pack their bags almost shot out of the room, but most simply slogged up and trudged out, clutching their collective stomachs as they growled. The adrenaline had stopped pumping about halfway through the lecture (though there were still spurts whenever she made eye contact with her old team), so her muscles were more sore and stiff than they had any right to be.

White, chalky lines divided the board into eloquent portions, with arrows, diagrams, and overhead maps for combat encounters sketched exactly where they needed to be. It was honestly a shame that she had to erase it. Shoes clacked on the tile behind her and the voices of fifty-odd students talking and laughing with their friends all blended into a single wave of noise. Except for five that is, five voices that slit her memory with every syllable.

Heels clacked behind her, and someone cleared their throat. _Don't be one of them, don't be one of them, don't be one of them._

Weiss turned, and three wom- _girls_ \- stood before her, one with white hair, one with raven hair, and one with crimson hair. The cringe she swallowed almost made her choke.

"Hello!" Pyrrha's hand shot up right alongside the pitch of her voice, morphing into a wave far too delicate for the girl. "We just wanted to know, well," Pyrrha's voice hitched a little bit, "if you'll be teaching here again?"

Younger Weiss pounced on the pause, all flashy smiles and perfect posture, "the subject is of tremendous professional and personal interest for all of us," one palm rose to her chest, bent slightly in that 'look at _me_ ' way. "Especially me. It would help my combat skills immeasurably if you continued to lecture."

Ligaments went taut, the muscles of her wrist and throat tensing into stone. She wondered how much it showed. "I would like to," it shouldn't have been as much of a struggle as it was to keep her voice flat. _Years and years of public speaking, Weiss, put it to use._ "But I'm afraid any future lectures lay at the discretion of Headmaster Ozpin," a nod to the man still sat in the corner of the room, and Pyrrha and Younger Weiss' eyes widened ever so slightly. The amber eyes still locked on her narrowed, and the mouth below them opened.

"You're applying for a position at Beacon?" The black bow twitched.

"I am," she stated, "as is my partner, John."

All three of their eyes snapped back to the least busty blond doing his best to sink into the wall.

Glacial eyes picked apart each of their reactions. Blake's blow twitched down and her shoulders straightened, Pyrrha gave a little 'huh,' and Younger Weiss...the muscles in her cheeks tightened, but nothing else showed.

"He'll be teaching the Combat Strategy and Improvisation course later today. It should be more interesting to the average student." Her eyes moved back down to theirs. "And it may save your life, just like every class here. Did you have any other questions? Any on the material?"

Gentle, midday light streamed through the windows and into the classroom, bouncing off every tile and board. The door, propped open as it was, allowed an endless stream of shuffling, shouting, hungry noise playing on a loop to drift into her classroom. It was surprisingly calming, and it allowed her to relax for the first time since she woke. She sighed, turning left towards the windows for a second before twisting back to the girls with a genuine, albeit small, smile. "Forgive me if I seem curt or distant, this is my first time teaching outside of a village square."

 _And that had been on basic first aid, not Dust-Aura manipulation._

"It's quite alright," Younger-Weiss ( _Weiss 2 maybe?)_ responded with a flourish and a wave. "The content of your lecture and your skill at communicating it has quite made up for any accidental breaches of courtesy. Though…" Weiss 2 glanced towards Blake, and then towards the baby blue sky.

"Yes?"

"Nevermind. It's nothing of importance." Weiss 2's smile tightened ever so slightly, "Have a nice day, Miss Snjór."

"And you, Miss Schnee, Miss Belladona." Words accompanied by a nod that was intended to also have eye contact, but instead ended up ricocheting off the pair's backs and smacking her in the face with indignation. Pyrrha lingered, but Weiss' attention was fixed on the approaching trinity of adults from the back row.

"Do you need anything, Miss Nikos?" Her pupils were forced towards the redhead, but still her focus remained on the procession in her peripherals. Pyrrha's hands knotted together, and her laugh was just a hint too strained to be genuine.

"No, no, no! I just wanted to, well, wish you luck on the job! I would love to be in your class if you do get it." A wave, a mumbled apology, and the dead girl was gone. It was odd that her voice still drifted in Weiss' mind. _Up to something or paranoia?_

She didn't have time to ponder it, barely a second later Ozpin's cane met the lecture hall tile as he strode toward her. He was smiling for Glynda, and Jaune was pondering for her.

Weiss prepared for the worst. Just in case.

* * *

Lunch was a quick affair for Jaune, and not just because his stomach was empty. The familiar faces and voices practically shoved him and Weiss from the room in under ten minutes flat, and what a miserable ten minutes they were. Every bite it seemed he caught himself staring at his old friends, caught somewhere between dread and wistful longing. Part of him wanted to rush over and introduce himself, tell them all to run far away, and shake Ozpin until he either broke or mobilized the Kingdom's military himself.

He couldn't though, and that was his own idea.

It made lunch taste bitter.

They didn't talk as they made their way to the designated sparring room in which Jaune would teaching. There was too much on his mind, too many nerves about the powder keg beneath them all waiting to blow, and that wasn't just his class. His eyes darted to each and every door as they walked, waiting for a student to turn into Sustrai or Black and attack them both on the spot.

His hand kept drifting to where the pommel of Crocea Mors should be. Its absence didn't do anything for the nerves. It was good then that Weiss' hand always caught his on the way there, squeezing twice before letting go.

Glynda was waiting for them, lips ever so slightly upturned. "Mr. Pucelle, Ms. Snjór. Welcome to Combat Hall 12." Her mouth formed a legitimate smile at that, "you'll probably want to familiarize yourself with the arena Mr. Pucelle. Professor Ozpin and I will be on the railings above if you'd like to join us, Ms. Snjór."

The room was large, but nothing special as far as sparring rooms go. There was a sunken, hexagonal arena, spectator bleachers around that, and the ground floor walkway and railings on the upper borders of it all. The only unique aspect was the domed skylight above that the sky peered through.

For a brief second, he closed his eyes and let the sunlight wash over him. _Breathe in, breathe out. In. Out._ _Let the nerves slip away. You can handle seeing them. This is how you help them. You'll get it done._

Weiss was straightening his collar when he opened his eyes, lips pursed and brows crinkled. He smiled. "Was it crooked?"

The ice in her eyes twinkled with sunlight and something a little bit more. "You might as well ask if the sky is blue, _Professor_."

" _Speculative_ Professor," he corrected with a frown as the sunlight faded. One hand moved to run through his hair for the umpteenth time.

It was intercepted by another, smaller hand, pale as the clouds. "Only for another hour, Mr. Pucelle. After that," she smirked and shrugged her shoulders, "well, I suppose I'll have to finally teach you how to tie your tie."

A squawk of indignation, "I can tie a tie!"

Her hand squeezed a heartbeat on his own, and one eyebrow rose in challenge. "Oh? I suppose you'll just have to prove it to me then."

Glynda cleared her throat as the doors opened and the chatter of students began to fill the hall. Blue eyes picked apart each and every one. How many of them had died? How many had he known, but forgotten? Could they save them all? He didn't notice the muscles on his back clenching.

In a split second there were lips at his ear, the whisper drowning everything. "It's just another mission."

Black hair fluttered as she turned and processed away just as fast, eyes locked on Ozpin and Glynda as she walked.

 _Just another mission._

He closed his eyes again, and inhaled.

 _Just another mission._

He could hear them. Somehow he still recognized their gaits.

 _Just another mission._

An exhale.

He expected to find Pyrrha or Ren staring back at him, maybe even himself. He'd heard each of them come in among all footfalls.

Instead there was Cinder Fall.

* * *

 **A/N: Hey y'all, been a while hasn't it? Sorry about the wait, everything just sort of got away from me. Summer was lacking in enough medication to get me focused and able to write, and last semester, well, last semester was a doozy.**

 **I guess I won't go too much into it because I doubt y'all want to hear it, but the short of it is a lot of identity shit, relationship stuff, depression, paranoia issues, etc. Writing was sadly pretty low on the priority totem pole compared to all the shit in my life so I wasn't able to get basically anything done. And I guess it did lose a bit of its luster, but I feel like that's back. Shit's pretty worked out here now, and writing is fun again honestly.**

 **This chapter has been stuck just short of completion for a long time, and I think that helped in the wait. It was enough that I could be like "yeah, can finish that soon," and never actually really did. I said fuck it today though finished up what I had because bullshit.**

 **Anyway, this chapter was difficult. The more I write the more I struggle to characterize Older Jaune. He's a tough one for me. He's just so...I dunno. Nuanced, I guess? Always takes me a while to think on how he'd act and what he'd say. Weiss to a lesser degree, but she's also a tough nut to write. I don't want to essentially create OCs because 'o guys tehyve been thru soo muuuuch!11!' I want them to be the characters we know, just older and having been through some not fun stuff, and I would seriously treasure any feedback y'all give me on how you think I'm doin on that front. Really any feedback at all honestly, I'm easy.**

 **I guess that's it? If any of y'all read** _Sanguine_ **then just know that it's on its way. I wrote like three different versions of the next chapter, but scrapped them all because it was OOC and crap. Anyway, hopefully I'll be able to update a lot more consistently now. Gonna try to get used to writing daily. See how that goes.**

 **Thanks so much for reading, and stay safe out there guys/gals/enby/etc!**


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